Voice of the Deadra
by Maxaro
Summary: He had no will to fight in a land that doesn't change, no will to go on, but then he heard a voice promising that he can get a quest that will change Skyrim's history forever. First fanfic. Rated M for gore and possible sexual situations
1. Chapter 1

Voice of the Deadra

Chapter 1

An: This is my first fanfic and i don't really know were im gonna go with it, I have a plan but I'm not sure how good or writeable it is. Please leave a review so I know if I should continue with the story. If I do continue be aware that the pairing i thought up is not the most normal one and may be scrapped. The characters in this story are probably going to be a bit OOC. English is also my second laguagne so I'm sorry for any gramatical errors.

Contains spoilers for the main story and both Dragonborn and Dawnguard storylines.

Disclaimer: I do not own the elder scrolls series and am not making money of this.

Nothingness…

That was the feeling welling up inside him, as he stood in the ruins of the bandit camp. No satisfaction, no remorse, no happiness and no sadness, just the feeling that all that was left of him was a hollow shell.

Of course that was not how he always had felt; just 2 months ago he was happy and laughing as the Dawnguard celebrated their victory over clan Volkihar, and 3 months before that he was practically seething with anger over how the other kids in the city treated his child, Lucia.

But now he just felt empty, a sad and broken version of the proud warrior he once was.

Thorik Stormbane, the Dragonborn; bane of Alduin, banisher of Miraak, slayer of Harkon, former arch-mage of the college of Winterhold, thane of all nine holds in Skyrim, the man who destroyed the Stormcloak rebellion and the man who countless people saw as the greatest hero Tamriel has ever known, fell down on his knees and just stared at the ground.

He couldn't do any more, he didn't know how he was supposed to go on like this, he was only 32 years old and had almost accomplished as much as Tiber Septim and all he did anymore was go out and do whatever menial task the jarls needed done and then return home to Proudspire manor and wear the fake smile he had become accustomed to in the last month. The only reason he even bothered to come home anymore was that if didn't then Lucia would become worried sick and as much as he didn't feel anymore, he just couldn't stand the look on her face when she became sad.

At least that was until today…

XxXxXxXxXx

The day had started as most other days would start in the last month; he woke up to find that Lucia had sneaked into his room sometime during the night, because even as much as she would talk about being brave she still couldn't sleep alone. He had asked her numerous times if she wanted her own bed in his room but she would always answer that she wasn't a little girl and that she could sleep by herself. Then he would carefully wake her and then they would go and wash up, get dressed and then eat breakfast together. He would then go outside and check what letters the courier had delivered and read them as Lucia practised her knife skills against the training dummy.

But that was the point in the day where things started to change, because among the requests and invitations he would normally receive was an envelope with the mark of Riften on it. He never got letters or requests from Maven or anyone in the Riften court because he knew that all of them hated him and his morals. Within the envelope was a letter with the location of a bandit camp that was terrorizing the local populace and promise of gold when the request was completed.

He accepted the request and journeyed to the bandit camp that was a few miles north of Shors stone, there he dismounted from the horse he had rode on to get there and went to survey the situation.

That was when things started to go to oblivion. On a wooden table within the bandit camp stood a man Thorik never wanted to see again, a large Nord with a bushy beard and strong build wearing hide armour with a bear pelt slung over his head. A large steel battleaxe was fastened onto his back and in his arms was a young Altmer girl in ripped clothes and a terrified expression on her face. The man was none other then Galmar Stone-Fist, the only Stormcloak that Thorik ever had any respect for. And now here he was leading a bandit gang, kidnapping and stealing from the very people he once said he would protect.

The last time Thorik had met Galmar was when he and general Tullius had stormed the palace of kings during the Imperial siege of Windhelm. He had spared Galmar because he saw the good heart in the man and his will to fight for his people, but now, when Galmar ripped of the last of the girls' torn dress and threw her down on the table, the last ounce of respect he had for the man vanished.

"FUS RO DAH"

That was all Galmar and the bandits heard as the gate of the bandit camp was blow of its hinges by the sheer force of the thuum. With a mighty battle roar Thorik charged through what was left of the gate, Dragonbone battle axe and armour ready. As the bandits started to regain their senses Thorik descended into their ranks and, with a wild swing, cleaved three of them clean through the middle, covering the nearby bandits in blood and guts. Blocking a swing from one of the bandits who realized what was going on, Thorik heaved his axe around and decapitated one of the bandits on his left and then turned around keeping his momentum in his swing and cut down the bandit who attacked him. As the bandits who had recovered started to encircle at him, he noticed something from the corner of his eye; Galmar holding the girl he had thrown on the table by her hair and holding a dagger to her throat.

"Galmar, stop!" he cried out.

"Huh, so it is you, Thorik Stormbane" he responded, saying his name as if it was a disease.

"Let the girl go!" he roared, while gripping his axe even tighter.

Galmar didn't give a response to this and, without batting an eye, thrust the dagger deep into the girls' throat.

As the girl felt her mind blacken and death's embrace grow close, the last thing she heard was a draconic roar of rage that not even Alduin himself could rival.

XxXxXxXxXx

It had started to rain while he went over all that had happened in his head, but one thing kept echoing in his mind; Galmar's last words…

"I used to love this land, more than my own wife, and only wanted her to be free again, that's the reason I became a Stormcloak, but when you let me live that day you opened my eyes to what Skyrim really is; a filthy elven corrupted piece of horker dung. The country I loved is dead, so I stopped fighting for it. All I was doing these past months was corrupting Skyrim even more and waiting to die… I guess my next stop is Sovngard, maybe I will see the land I love again…

This was not the first time Thorik had thought about the bad things in Skyrim, but this was the first time he felt as if his deeds, both good and bad, hadn't changed anything about the land; there were still bandits everywhere, still dragons soaring through the sky, still vampires hunting people and still Altmer kidnapping people because of Talos worship.

"What am I going to do with my life?" he asked quietly.

He sat in the middle of the bandit camp, letting the rain wash some of the blood of him, and just kept staring at the ground. A few feet to the left of him was the body of the girl, the girl who died because of him. Died because he showed kindness to a man he thought he respected. After what felt like an eternity he pushed himself to his feet, feeling sick for the first time he could remember.

He picked up the body of the girl and carried it over to where one of the fallen doors was laying.

"LOK VAH KOOR".

He knew his heart wasn't in the shout, but he didn't care. He laid down the girls' body on the fallen door and spoke the word;

"Yol".

As the body and the door burned, he turned around and started walking towards his horse and with a voice barely more than a whisper said;

"Lig froolaaz zey".

An: Will not be updated for at least 3 days.


	2. Chapter 2

Voice of the Deadra

Chapter 2

An: This chapter is considerably shorter than the last one and that is because my brain has been in panic mode for the last week, I´m starting in a new school tomorrow will not update for a while sorry.

Disclaimer: Don´t own shit.

"OD AH VIING!" He inhaled… "DUR NEH VIIR!" Another breath… "PAAR THUR NAX!"

He had ridden for almost an hour before he decided dismount, send his horse back home and call for Paarthurnax, Odahviing and Durnehviir, but he had finally realized that the only ones he could talk to about his troubles would not be man or mer; but Dov.

"It´s good to see you again Qahnaarin, but why have you summoned me? I sense no Hakaron nearby."

"I will explain Durnehviir, just wait for the others to get here."

"Wait for whom?"

Just as he said those words, two shadows descended upon them.

"Dovahkiin, why have you called for us?" Paarthurnax asked, as he and Odahviing landed.

"Yes, what is the Faastiid that requires the help of all of us?" Odahviing also asked.

After taking a deep breath and figuring out what he was going to say Thorin bowed his head and, with an empty voice said:

"I don´t know how to do this anymore, I don´t know how to be the Dovahkiin or the hero anymore. Nothing changes in Skyrim, everything I´ve done and all the death I´ve caused has not changed anything. The only thing that has happened is that I´ve pushed up the date of Skyrim´s destruction until the disaster happens. Please give me a quest that makes some form of lasting change…"

The three ancient dragons shared a look and it seemed that some form of non verbal conversation happened between them before Paarthurnax spoke up.

"None of us can give you such a Wund, Dovahkiin, but there might be other ones that can…"

Go to one of the Deadric shrines here in Skyrim and speak the words: Lahvraan Kulaan For…" Odahviing continued.

"When you have done this speak to one of the Deadric prince´s and volunteer to be their champion if they give you a world changing quest." Durnehviir finished.

"But remember, most of the Deadric prince´s are very Loziik, as you know from your dealings with Hermeaus Mora. Do not believe everything they say and be vary of Mehrunes Dagon, he is the most powerful and Zonahkriin of the Deadra." Paarthurnax added with worried voice.

"We suggest that you visit Azura´s shrine first, since she considered the least Vokul of them. I can fly you there, Qahnaarin, if that is what you Hind." Durnehviir said while bending down so Thorin could get on.

"Nox Hi." Thorin said and climbed up on Durnehviir´s and flew off towards Winterhold.

XxXxXxXxXx

After he had dismounted and Durnehviir had flown of, Thorin started going up the road to Azura´s shrine. When he got up to the statue on top of the shrine he noticed that the shrine guardian Durnehviir had told him about on the way there was apparently gone for the night. This was a relief to him since he really didn´t feel like talking to anyone exempt for the Deadra.

He sat down in front of the statue depicting Azure, took a deep breath of cold air and with as much power he could manage shouted:

"LAHVRAAN KULHAAN FOR!"

And then everything went black…

An: Am I using too much dovahzuul?

Will not update until panic attacks stop.


End file.
